It's Darker Inside
by minhoismybby
Summary: The girl with the chestnut hair and candy apple green eyes is branded Subject B13. She passed the Trials, made it through the Scorch and survived to escape the clutches of WICKED. She feels as if after all that's happened she must be incapable of love. But then a broken boy from Group A comes along and threatens to change that. MinhoxJulie (minor char.) little bit of Thomeresa
1. Say Hello to Julie

The girl with the chestnut hair and candy apple green eyes is branded Subject B13. She passed the Trials, made it through the Scorch and survived to escape the clutches of WICKED. She feels as if after all that's happened she must be incapable of love. But then a broken boy from Group A comes along and threatens to change that. Will she be able to battle the demons lurking in the darkness of her mind and be happy with the boy that promises to show her a brighter future?

She sits with her legs folded underneath her on a worn black lounge in the middle of some stadium. If it weren't for the green-clad guards milling around, she'd be convinced WICKED didn't have their greedy claws still clinging into her skin. But she knows better, of course, because there is no hope of being free. Not now, maybe not ever.

She watches passively as girls from Group B and the strangers from Group A- Gladers? Is that what they were calling themselves?- mingle with each other, spreading throughout the wooden hall. She spots the boy with brown hair- Thomas, she remembers- talking to Teresa, standing further away than he would have before the Scorch. His muscles are taut and his jaw is set and from where she's sitting it looks like his fingers are hovering over the knife at his belt. The girl knows he wouldn't hurt Teresa, not even after what she did to him. He's heartbroken, that's all. Maybe a little angry. He doesn't know how to deal with that pain by himself so he turns to something he knows. Weapons.

She doesn't care too much for Teresa; in fact she disagreed with nearly everything the other girl had done during the Trials. She respects her, though, for her ability to kick ass and not care whether what she's doing is going to have repercussions later.

Then, for some reason unknown to her, as if triggered by the sight of the other girl, images of her being a Sprinter in the Maze, running through the puzzle by herself, struggling with loneliness and stress, hit her like a tidal wave crashes down onto the coast. She feels nostalgic- nostalgic of all emotions! - as if her entire life is over and she's watching from the sidelines as her friends continue on. Something about the place, about the Walls, has earned itself a place in her heart. Despite the shock, fear and pain she felt there, it had still carved her into the girl she is today. And that counts for something, right? But then darkness spreads and she remembers all the wickedness she experienced there. The shrill screams that cut through the air. The flashing lights and mechanical whirs. The first day she and Chelsea explored the vast corridors outside the Square, only realizing too late that the giant walls move. And close at dusk. The hopelessness she felt when her friend was ripped away from her, dragged deeper into the maze, was overwhelming. She never wanted to feel that wretchedness again.

She closes her eyes and hugs her knees to her chest, settling down into the comfortable cushions. She is glad no one has come over to see her because she's so tired she doubts she would be of any use. But just as she's closing her eyes she sees someone sit down in the single armchair beside her. She keeps her eyes closed, hoping they'll just go away.

"Uh...hi,"

It's a boy's voice, deep and slightly husky with a trace of some accent she can't place. The sheer pleasantness of it makes her lift her heavy eyelids to find out who the alluring mutter came from. The first thing she notices is his olive skin, his dark hair. He's Asian, and very handsome. He looks ragged and exhausted, dirty and burnt but still well put together. His jaw is strong and set and he has a glint of something hopeful in his dark eyes. A small smile plays along his pink lips and he has all the confidence in the world. She realizes she's seen him before, always by Thomas's or the tall, blond boy's side. He's their leader, she thinks.

She waits for him to say something before remembering he already had. "Hey," she murmurs, her voice croaky. She clears her throat before continuing. "Rough couple of days." She wishes she could say something with more meaning, more feeling, less universal, but she can't think of anything.

He blows air out of his nose in a short burst, like he's scoffing. "You're telling me."

Everything about him; his relaxed shoulders, charming smirk and casual tone makes her want to hug him or strangle him until he tells her how he does it. But it seems like he's overcompensating slightly, like he's fighting an internal battle and doesn't want anybody to be his ally.

She feels her eyelids start to droop down, fatigue dawning on her, but she fights it, wanting to talk to him more. "What are you going to do now that we're finally out for good?" she asks, once again cursing herself for the lack of imaginative questions. "No more WICKED. No more Trials. No nothing."

"If those shuck faces are just going to let us walk out of here then I'm going to wear a pink tutu, get down on one knee and sing a song to Rat Man himself,"

She realizes as he says it that it's what she's been thinking also. Not about the song thing but about escaping. There's no way WICKED would put them through all those tests to just let them go at the end. They had to have a follow up or something. "Just trying to be optimistic," she says wearily through a yawn. "I'm sorry...I'm really tired," she murmurs, half wanting to get out of the awkward small talk and the other half actually wanting to sleep. She closes her eyes fully and maintains the position of an unconscious corpse, waiting to see if the boy will leave. He doesn't. A few minutes pass and she still feels his presence in the chair. Then he speaks up quietly, like he doesn't want anyone but her to hear.

"I just..." he starts softly, his voice is strong and steady. "I just don't know how I'm going to live now, you know? The things I saw- the things we all saw...and had to do...shuck it. I don't think I'll be able to sleep again. Those crazy slintheads in the Underneath, the lighting-" he pauses. She remembers the burns she saw on his arms and neck, the touchy way he positioned himself in the chair, the mega storm in the Scorch... "I'm Minho, by the way." he says before she can decide how to react. "Not that you're awake or anything..." he starts to sound nervous, like talking to her is a little more nerve wracking than battling the Grievers. "God, I've never talked a girl to sleep before. Y'know I'm actually normally the smooth one? I could talk someone into committing murder without them thinking twice. But you're uh, different...Anyway, uh, I'm going to go now so...nice chatting with you- or to you, I guess,"

She hears him stand up but doesn't open her eyes. She's kind of overwhelmed by everything he's said, starting with the 'you're different' and ranging to the faltering consistency in his sentences.

Just as he's walking away she catches him murmuring to himself. "Shuck it, Minho. You're such a slinthead. Smooth. Really smooth."

Even as his footsteps merge with the sounds of conversation around her, getting further and further away, she feels as if he's still sitting there, right by her side.


	2. Time Lapse: The Death Cure

Sorry I haven't been posting the new chapters. I just really thought nobody liked the first one so I didn't bother posting this one. But it seems some of you do want to read more, so here I give you a section from The Death Cure, just after Thomas flees Vince's warehouse with Brenda, leaving the rescued Immunes, Minho and the others behind. (Some facts may be a little off-center. I apologize in advance.) PS. Julie is just a random character I have made to exist as a part of Group B. She passed the Trials like everybody else and is now searching for a way to rid herself of the nightmares.

ENJOY XX

-Courtney

She sees Minho enter the dim storeroom and her heart speeds up considerably. He's alive. Dirty, tired and bruised, and alive. She's only spoken to him once- and she was unconscious for the most of it- but the connection she feels toward him is more than real.

She watches as he paces the room in front of the sleeping Immunes who are sprawled out on the concrete floor. He looks angry, frustrated about something. He slides a hand up into his dark hair and ruffles it up quickly, clenching his fingers into a fist. He hasn't seen her yet. She straightens up in her dark corner, fixes her hair. "Hey Minho," she says, her voice sounding louder than normal in the otherwise silent room. "Everything okay?"

He immediately stiffens at the mention of his name, like he's just heard the voice of a ghost. He turns and looks for her, and it takes his curious eyes a moment of wandering before they lock on her. His eyes are haunted and dark rings have started to pronounce themselves under them. Bruises colour his jawline and grey scars, where he was burnt by lighting in the Scorch, are scattered down his arms and neck. She still sees the beauty of him, the stability in his frame, that small fragment of something hopeful in his eyes, regardless of the small imperfections.

"Do you remember me?" she asks after he's quiet for a while. His lips turn up into a weak smile and all the anger she saw in him before is gone, hidden.

"I never got your name," he says, picking his way through the field of sleeping bodies toward me.

"It's Julie," she replies as he slumps down beside her, leaning his back against a row of metal shelving.

"Last time we met I remember boring you to sleep," he says quietly, tiredness dulling the edges of his usually lively voice. He leans his head back so it rests against the shelf and closes his eyes. I see his Adam 's apple move under his olive skin as he swallows. He looks vulnerable, the one trait she's never seen in him before. She likes the thought of it.

"Oh, really?" Julie replies slowly, as if through a daze. "I remember it a lot differently," He shared something with her, something he mightn't've said to anyone else, not even Thomas. "I heard about your friend Newt not being immune. I'm really sorry,"

Minho tenses up beside her, his slender hands balling into tight fists. He starts to shake slightly, like whatever is building inside him is trying to physically announce itself. For a moment she's afraid he'll unload on her, punch her until she passes out. But that thought goes away quickly and she feels guilty for ever thinking it.

His eyes move behind his eyelids and he frowns like he's in pain. "I don't really want to hear about that right now," he mutters through gritted teeth. _I may as well be torturing him,_ she thinks with horror.

Then she feels pain in her chest, so great it threatens to destroy her. For Minho. For her memories. For everything. Then words are flowing out of her mouth steadily before she is even aware she is speaking.

"I had a friend named Beth who stuck with me the entire time. The Maze, the Scorch...she battled through like the rest of us, but she was different in how she viewed the world. It was like she was looking through a lens that only showed butterflies and rainbows on the other end. She thought we could beat the world and end up happy. And I was starting to think we could, too." she takes a breath. A pause. "Then we get back here and Rat Face tells us she's got the Flare." the sentence is so short, so simple, but she feels the weight behind it. She feels the blossoming anguish in her gut and the warm tears running down her cheeks. "So I tell her she'll be fine, that I'll help them find a cure. I'll help them find the cure. And Beth, being the ray of sunshine she was, was supposed to agree and stick it out for as long as possible. So we ship out to Denver looking for you guys. We get there with no problems, stay in a budget motel in some dirty part of the city. I promised her we were going to find help in the city. We even snuck her in through a break in the wall. I knew it was bad. I knew it would spread the disease inside the walls, but at the time I didn't care."

"So Beth and I get our own room, just in case any guards came and tried to make trouble for us. Better to save the masses, right?" she swallows hard, tries to push the next part of the story out of her throat. "I go out to find Teresa, to tell her we should start moving, and when I come back to the room, there's Beth lying in a pool of her own blood. At first I think the guards had found her, murdered her when they found out she was infected. But then I see the knife tucked under her leg and the slits down her arms. She'd killed herself. The girl who only saw the best in people and the light in dark situations. She'd opted out because it got too tough,"

She goes quiet after that, the tears falling freely now, cascading down her face and dripping from her chin. She wipes them away subtly, wanting to hide them from the boy, unwilling to let him see her in a state of weakness. Minho has gone still beside her but she can feel his irregular breathing against her arm. For a moment he shifts his arm, as if debating whether or not to put it around her, but then he must decide not to.

"Newt's still out there," he says. "And he's no Beth. He won't kill himself." She doesn't get mad or offended, just sad. She knows now that Beth was broken inside, relying on a string to hold her together. And when that string was severed she fell apart like an unraveled rag doll. She doesn't know Newt but she'd seen the desperation of those with the Flare first hand. It didn't matter what he was like before; one day he'll be begging to die.

A second later Minho goes rigid and she feels his shift in moods. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he turns to her. "I didn't mean-"

"It's ok." she says. Short and simple. Maybe she means it, maybe she doesn't. But the time for saying so has come and gone as she realizes the tension between them has shifted again.

"Okay, good," he says without feeling, as if he hadn't meant to apologize in the first place. Then he pushes himself to his feet and walks toward the door he came through, disappearing through it without a single glance back at her. She sits in the dark, as she had before he'd come in, but it is different now. She feels as if something within her is missing and its absence is welcoming in the darkness.


End file.
